


Spar with me

by AlicienneOfTarth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Love Confessions, One Shot, Post Season 7, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlicienneOfTarth/pseuds/AlicienneOfTarth
Summary: Jaime is jealous, Brienne is distant until, under the snow, they can't pretend anymore."She had been distant, cold like the upcoming winter, unattainable like she still was miles away from him and all of this had made him want her even more if it was possible; her eyes though, couldn’t lie and he had found strength and comfort in them, drowning in their honesty made of sapphires."





	Spar with me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, here I am again! This is my second fic, hope you like it! I can't thank you enough for your answer to my first one.  
> Please let me know if you enjoy this one too. I keep wondering about the possible outcome on season 8 and this is what happens!  
> English is not my first language,  
> 

 

 

 

Jaime had never felt jealous, or better, he had never felt this kind of jealousy before; not because he considered it a sing of weakness or because it made him feel less honorable somehow, he had never felt ashamed of love even if his choices in that matter had always been the first reason to despise himself, but simply because his beloved ones had always remained inside his familiar circle and he knew that, in a way or another, they would have been his forever, for better or for worse.

With her it was different;

everything, with her, was different.

And new.

Since when he had arrived in Winterfell, he felt like something was missing . The first days had been the hardest, days made  of looks of contempt, whispers  behind his back and  harrowing  solitude. 

Strangely, the only comfort had come from her incredible eyes, not from her. She had been distant, cold like the upcoming winter, unattainable  like she still was miles away from him  and all of this had made him want her even more if it was possible; her eyes  though, couldn’t lie and he had found strength and comfort in them,  drowning in their honesty made of sapphires.

He didn’t know why she was acting that way, maybe her good sense had finally prevailed on her infinite goodness and she had begun to understand that he wasn’t the decent man to fight for and that he would never be, but Jaime was selfish and he didn’t want to give up on her, not when the end of the world was incredibly near and he had nothing to lose.

He had never thought, though, to find himself devoured  by jealousy.

His eyes  were  continually stuck on her,  like he was afraid of losing her from one day to another and he wondered how he had managed to survive without her until the moment he had arrived in Winterfell, desperately clinging  to the memories of the days shared together in the safety of his room . 

They were all in the Great  hall, having dinner together, the red  wilding, Tormund,  source of his new ultimate mood , sitting next to her, a bad habit he had never left since when Jaime had arrived. The man kept teasing Brienne, making apparently stupid or annoying comments that made her wince every second in a constant intolerance. The problem was, Jaime had learned to know that gaze, that exasperated expression and  that  infinite sighing. He had been the one to make her feel that way. He had teased her unceasingly, he had been rude, harsh,  inopportune and she had paid him with that gaze. Day after day, though, that gaze had slowly become something else that he couldn’t quite catch. Something that made him hopeful and made him feel privileged, somehow.

That was the reason he couldn’t allow himself to think about the possibility she could start to look at the wilding with different eyes, especially because he felt like those eyes were just destinated to him;

it was presumptuous maybe, but he was Jaime Lannister after all.

He looked toward the pair once again from his spot at the other side of the table and a rush of adrenaline hit him when  Tormund touched her hand briefly to gain her attention. She retreated her hand immediately and he couldn’t help to feel a wave of relief  through his body .

He remembered that time in Harrenhal when he had touched her in the same way, her hand tight fiercely around a knife but incredibly small in his one. She hadn’t winced that time. Her hand had remained still under his caress and he smiled slightly just remembering it. Suddenly, she looked up from her meal and intercepted his eyes; he held her gaze for some seconds and then tilted his goblet of wine toward her to greet her. She broke the exchange with a rapidity that made him puzzled again.

_ Where are you, Brienne? _

That night Jaime couldn’t sleep and after a restless hour spent brooding in his chamber, he decided that the cold air could have helped him to clarify his delusional mind. He passed through the kitchens to grab a bottle of ale, feeling both desperate and reckless at the same time and then went outside. He explained shortly to the guards that he just wanted to take a walk around the castle and they left him, maybe hoping he would die frozen and drunk somewhere.

No one cared about him.

He began his exploration and the sensation of the snow under his feet was incredibly new and revealing somehow. He was still alive, he was still feeling something.

The confirmation arrived when he saw her.

From his position she seemed trapped in a beautiful painting, all the white surrounding her with the exception of a tree full of red leaves behind her; when she sensed his presence and looked at him, he added some blue to the painting. He approached her, sat next to her and without a word he handed her the bottle of ale; she surprised him, taking a sip.

“It’s the heart tree.” She said out of the blue and he realized just in that moment how much he had missed her voice.

“It’s beautiful.” He said, taking a sip in turn.

“The children of the forest made them to worship the old Gods. Sometimes, when the resin drips through the slots, it seems that it’s crying blood.”

“Disturbing.” He said.

“Still beautiful.” She replied, smiling slightly. He nudged her shoulder lightly, made braver by her smile. “Lady Catelyn told me about it.. she used to come here with Lord Eddard, I feel like it was a special place for them, somehow.”

“Great, now I feel like a fucking intruder.” He said, smirking.

“I liked her, a lot.. I truly admired her.” She said, almost whispering.

“I know.” He said gently. That kind of gentleness he had started to reserve just to her.

“She was everything I’ve always wanted to be.. fierce, passionate, strong and..beautiful.” She said with a hint of sadness in the end.

 _You are too._ He just wanted to say, but found himself fight with thoughts and words in his mind. She seemed to sense his struggle.

“Don’t.” She said, trying to stop him. “You can’t lie in front of a Weirwood tree.”

“You don’t know what I wanted to say.”

“If you had really wanted to say it, you would have.” She replied, taking the ale from him.

“What happened with her?” She said after some seconds.

Her question hit him hardly, especially because it was totally unexpected.

“She betrayed me.” He said immediately.

“Do you miss her?” She asked, searching for his eyes and her brave attitude made him feel weaker.

“I don’t know anymore.” He said honestly, taking the bottle from her and brushing her fingers in the process. After a sip of ale that gave him some courage, he kept talking, “she told me she’s pregnant.” He was sure he could discern a hint of pain in her eyes after his confession and he selfishly enjoyed it.

“At least you will have someone worth fighting and surviving for.” She said softly.

“I already have.” He said, burying his eyes into hers and that kind of silence almost loud due to its intensity hit them.

“Are you scared?” She asked, trying to ignore his answer.

“Totally.” He answered with honesy, “you?”

She hesitated for some seconds then she started to talk, “I.. I’m afraid I won’t live enough to find out how it is”

“How it is, what?”He asked, searching the answer in her eyes.

“How it is to be loved..to be kissed and touched.. to feel like a woman for once.” She said, lowering her gaze.

He lifted her chin with his fingers, softly. “I won’t let you die.” He whispered, not leaving her eyes, but he soon realized it wasn’t the kind of answer she had wanted to hear from him.

“You don’t have to protect me.” She said stubbornly, interrupting the contact.

“I’ve already done it more than once without you never realizing it.”

“What are you talking about?” She asked confused.

“Why do you think I’ve barely looked at you in the Dragon pit?”

“I.. I don’t know.” She replied, trying to hide the hurt still vivid that his behavior had provoked in her.

“I was protecting you.” He said exasperated.

“From who?”

“Seriously, Brienne? From who?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was protecting you from her.”

“Why?” She said incredulous.

“Because..” He started then stopped; she looked at him and the intensity of her gaze made him continue. “Because she knows I care about you.” He said at the end.

Her eyes still fixed on his, feeling like they were challenging him.

 _Tell her more,_ a silent mantra in his head.

 _Tell me more,_ a heartbreaking hope in her mind.

“We should go inside, it’s freezing.” She said at the end, discerning all the disappointment in his eyes. He stood up and helped her on her feet. Together they reached the castle, their sides constantly bumping one against each other, their hands brushing more than once, like it was the most natural thing to do.

When they reached the long hallway that led to the chambers, they stopped one in front of the other, ready to separate.

“Try to sleep.” She said shyly.

“Good night.” He replied insecure. She nodded and started to walk toward her room when his voice interrupted her again. “Wait.” He said and she turned slowly toward him.

_Tell her more_

_Tell me more_ ,

that silent prayer began again.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said, approaching her. “Having you here makes me feel less lost. You..with you here, it feels like home to me.” He added in a whisper.

She lowered her gaze, trying to hide the rush of emotions dancing in her eyes and nodded slowly, hating herself for the lack of affection. He sighed and started to turn away from her when it was her turn to stop him.

“Ser Jaime?” She called him.

He rolled his eyes, amused by the fact she kept calling him Ser.

“Yes, Lady Brienne.” He said, turning toward her, in a mocking tone.

She seemed to struggle to find the right words and his heart melted a little.

“I care about you too.” She said at the end and it came out in a barely audible whisper.

“I know, wench.” He said smugly, trying to lighten the atmosphere. She gave him a last small smile and then she entered in her room.

 

Days passed slowly and emotionless since that intimate encounter; Jaime had thought hopeful, that things would have changed between them, following a secret path that none of them, though, seemed intended to accelerate, both frozen by fear and expectation. Everything seemed stuck in a bubble made of ice and stillness, a precarious balance fated to crumble due to the intensity of their feelings.

The burst was close, though.

Her renewed distance made his jealousy grow impatiently every time he spotted the couple together and he was forced to face it with all his powerlessness and doubts.

One day he met the wilding in the practice yard, engaged in some training with a not very skilled partner and the temptation was too strong to ignore it.

“Want a real taste, wilding?” He didn’t know why he kept referring to him like that, maybe his old and typical conceit was back and he just needed to prove to himself that he was better than him, superior in everything.

He was a Lannister and he was a wilding.

The truth was he simply felt everyone was better than him, especially in a matter of deserving her.

“I’m always in for a good taste, charming.” He replied, mocking him.

Jaime approached him with a feline pace, his daring eyes stuck on him. Then, without a word, they begun to dance. Their sparring was so intense and allusive that a good crowd of curious circled them, enjoying the silent show. When they both stopped to catch their breath, Tormund was the first to speak.

“You’re not so bad to be a cripple.”

Jaime smiled bitterly, realizing that maybe he wasn’t the only one clouded by jealousy.

“You too, to be a cunt-chaser” He replied.

Tormund’s eyes lit up, clearly interested by the turn of the conversation.

“Oh, is that it, isn’t it?” He asked, approaching him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jaime replied, shortening the distance in turn.

“I will chase her until my last breath, charming, deal with it.” He said, towering over him.

“You are not worth either one of her breaths.” Jaime said smugly.

“Are you?” The red said.

Jaime unfortunately knew the answer to that question and that was the reason he couldn’t reply to him. Tormund seemed to sense his hesitation and kept provoking him.

“I can’t wait to turn every breath of her in a moan of pleasure, to impale her and make her feel the great beast of a woman she is.” He said.

“Stay away from her.” Jaime replied articulating each word accurately, so close to him he could almost touch him.

“Why?” He asked smugly.

“Because she’s mine.” The second those words left his mouth, Jaime was overwhelmed by how much he meant them.

What he wasn’t expecting was the fist that reached his cheekbone. Apparently, the wilding was as possessive as him. Jaime was ready to hit him back when his common sense prevailed on him and he left the man go.

Once in his room, trying to medicate his wound, he reflected about what had just happened. He knew he couldn’t pretend anymore, the situation was getting out of hand and the thought that bothered him the most was how much she deserved better. She deserved honesty, transparency, things that he wasn’t able to give her in that moment and that made him incredibly sad.

That until he received her visit.

She opened his room, without even knocking, and marched fiercely toward him that was sitting on the wooden table, a humid cloth in his hand. She rolled her eyes, noticing he was failing miserably with the cloth, so she grabbed it from his hand, not really gently and started to clean his cheekbone patiently. He inhaled sharply when he felt her knuckles brushing lightly his skin and he could see she was struggling with the urge to put her other hand on his face to keep him still.

“What have you done?” She asked, still cleaning his cheekbone.

He chuckled in response. “Why do you assume it’s always my fault?”

She ignored his answer, “what have you done?” She asked more firmly.

“I didn’t like the way he was talking about you.” He replied honestly and she stilled her movements.

“Who?” She asked, looking at him.

“Really?” He said exasperated.

She resumed to medicate. “You didn’t like the way he was talking about me, but you’re the one with a broken cheekbone?”

“I guess he didn’t like what I was saying too.”

“What did you say?” She asked him, searching the answer in his eyes.

He frowned his eyebrows in a mocking gesture. “Now you’re just being curious, wench.”

“I hate you.” She replied exasperated. He smiled at her, absurdly loving her words and he felt his heart melting when she smiled shyly in turn, lowering her gaze.

He loved how shy she was.

“Does it hurt?” She asked then.

“Not anymore.” He replied softly and she rolled her eyes, still smiling though.

“He’s a good man, you know.” She said seconds later, putting down the cloth on the table and he didn’t know if he was more disappointed by her words or by the fact she had stopped her caresses.

“I know.” He replied, sounding almost defeated, then, with a hint of panic he couldn’t hide, he asked her, “do you like him?”

From his position, sitting on the table, he was at her same eye level and he could read every emotion passing through her wonderful eyes. He noticed she didn’t know how to answer him.

“With all the respect, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“I know.” He said, brushing absently his thigh with her leg, realizing just now she was standing between his open legs, the urge to close them around her to keep her in place almost impossible to bear.

“I just think you deserve more.” He added in the end, meeting her eyes once again.

“It’s not up to you to decide who I deserve.” She replied, her cheeks flushing.

“I wish it was.” He said in whisper while his left hand, reacting on an incredible impulse, found her cheek, stroking it softly.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a whisper, but leaning on his touch in a contradictory gesture.

“Come here.” he said in the sweetest of prayer and took her in his arms. For a moment she stood still, too surprised to react, then her arms found his neck and she returned the embrace. Jaime pushed her against him, wanting to feel every inch of her body against his and closed his legs in the process to keep her in the place.

She sighed against his ear in response and he couldn’t help but bury his hand in her hair.

No one had ever made him feel so possessive before.

“I miss you.” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m here.” She said in a barely audible voice.

“Now you’re here.” He said.

He didn’t know how much time they stayed like that, lost in each other’s arms but she eventually pulled away and he loosened his grip on her.

“Spar with me tomorrow.” She said with a hint of seduction in her voice he was pretty sure it had been totally unintentional.

“Thank you.” He replied, knowing that was just a way to keep him close.

“Try to sleep.” She told him for the second time, but he knew this time, he would have slept beautifully.

He woke up smiling, not remembering when it had been the last time he had actually felt like that; the absurd thing was that he shouldn’t have felt that way. He was far from home, lost in the ice and ready to face the most difficult battle of his life; her sister, which he had always considered the love of his life had just betrayed him, not forgetting he could be dead in a month or less, but he felt lighter like never before. She had asked him to spar with her and the prospective was quite exciting; yes, because from every other woman he would have never heard those whispered words that had sounded ridiculously erotic coming from her.

For Brienne they meant everything; he knew it from the moment he had seen her dance with her sword, impossibly graceful in her movements and just thinking about it was making him feel horny. He bet, with a bit of presumption, she had never asked it to any other man during those days away from him, with the only exception of Podrick, his faithful esquire. That was the reason he felt privileged, like he had been the one chosen to share something so intimate and precious. He felt a thrill of anticipation, almost wishing they could be somewhere private and he could turn that little training in something more allusive. When he found her that afternoon in the practicing yard, she was already training with Arya, the young Stark and he leaned against the wall to enjoy the show.

They were both amazing to watch but he couldn’t help but focusing his gaze on her. Her hair that was pleasantly longer, he had already noticed, was lightly curly due to the sweat and the humidity in the room, her cheeks with a beautiful shade of pink that contrasted her porcelain skin; sometimes she bit her lower lip in deep concentration, without even having the awareness she was doing something sensual.

When the exertion of a particular gesture made her moan he knew he was totally lost.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down his accelerated beating and to stop the upcoming erection that was finding him totally unprepared when he felt her presence closer.

“Are you ready?” She asked him, piercing him with her eyes.

She was still breathing hardly and he swallowed, bewitched by the blue of her gaze.

“Yes.” He said but it came out more like a breath.

He followed her in the center of the room and soon realized they were alone.

He didn’t know if he was more scared or excited.

She started the dance and he was totally unprepared;

he felt weak, numb, like every gesture from him was decelerated, incoherent somehow.

She was a beautiful amazon and he was simply lost.

“You’re slow.” She said, a hint of irritation in her voice.

He tried again, parrying her thrusts without having the strength to attack her in turn. He could sense her impatience, her sighs of irritation and the atmosphere, absurdly, seemed even more arousing.

“Still slow.” She said, hitting his sword with too much emphasis to be a training session.

She was frustrated and he was fighting the urge to satisfy her in another way. He wanted to bring her to the apex of her impatience and then give her what she wanted.

She repeated the same words again and again, he replied always with the same indifference, chuckling silently at her impatience.

The fifth time the words left her mouth, _too slow_ , he attacked her with all his force, shot after shot, totally surprising her, making her retreat, until her back touched the wall behind her.

The time seemed to stop.

Their swords met in a cross against her chest; he pushed them against her with a little more force until his forehead was almost touching hers. She was breathing heavily and he closed the little space remained between them.

“Still too slow?” He whispered, his forehead now touching hers. She tried to push him off her but she failed, even if her defeat didn’t seem to annoy her. She tried again but he just pushed her back against the wall, once more.

“Yield.” He said and the authority of his voice surprised them both. When he saw her shaking her head imperceptibly, her stubbornness made him more aroused.

“Yield to me.” He said, his erection now touching her body.

She gasped in response and her sword left her hand immediately, like it was burning.

He left his sword falling between them too, keeping his forehead still against hers.

“Yield.” He whispered, a single breath of air separating them. When she challenged his eyes in response, he closed the space between them, brushing her lips.

“Please.” He said against her lips. She closed her eyes, letting a traitor tear escaping from her eyes. He read it like a sing of surrender and kissed her lips with the softest of the touch.

“I can’t.” She said suddenly and she pushed him away from her, leaving the room.

He followed her outside, trying to catch up with her unceasing pace; they were both under dressed for the icy temperature but they didn’t care at this point. She kept walking, almost running, until she reached the heart tree of their previous encounter. She stopped abruptly, breathing heavily, her back to him.

“Look at me.” He said out of breath when he was close enough. She turned, facing him and the vision of her almost melted his heart. Tears were streaming down her face, her hair messed up by the wind, she had never seemed smaller to him. He approached her slowly like she was a prey he was afraid to frighten while the first snow flakes fell from the pearly sky. He watched the snow touching her silky hair, camouflaging into her skin and losing itself into her tears.

She was beautiful in the snow.

He shortened the distance between them and he cupped her cheek tentatively.

“Why?” He asked her softly.

“I’m scared.” She replied, leaning into his touch.

“Of me?” He said, a hint of hurt in his voice.

“You could kill me with one simple word.” She whispered to him but she was the one now touching his forehead with her own.

He smiled at her gesture.

“I just want to kiss you.” he said, kissing her forehead. “To touch you.” He kissed her cheek. “To make love to you.” The corner of her lips.

“Why should I believe you?” She said trembling, raising a tentative hand and burying it in his hair, like she wanted the confirmation that he was real.

“Because you’re the best thing ever happened to me.” He said and she touched his lips in response.

“And because I can’t lie in front of the heart tree.” He added smirking, interrupting the contact.

“Shut your mouth.” She said, smiling.

“Make me, wench.” He challenged her but he was the first one to restart the kiss with a new passion. The little kisses they exchanged turned in a sensual dance when he bit her lower lip playfully. She moaned in her mouth and he found her tongue for the fist time, impossibly hot compared to the snow that was wetting their skin. They stayed like that for minutes, both unable to separate until Jaime noticed that her hand, lost in his hair, was trembling. He stopped the kiss and took it in his hand, raising it near his mouth and trying to warm it up with his hot breath; then he looked at her, covered in snow and he realized how he would like to spend all the night blowing away every single snowflake on her body.

“Come with me.” He said and there was only sweetness in his voice. She followed him inside, never leaving his hand. They had almost been seen together by a guard and the thrilling sensation of being discovered made everything even more exciting. She realized they were in his room, the moment he closed the door and lead her in front of the fire. He looked at her with an intensity she had never seen before.

“Do you trust me?” He asked her then.

“Always.” She replied immediately.

“Would you undress here for me?” He asked, measuring each word with accuracy, not wanting to scare her.

She lowered her gaze and he could sense his request was bothering her. “I don’t think you would like it.” She said, looking even smaller than before.

“Why?” He asked her, shortening the distance between them.

“Because you won’t like my body.” She said tentatively.

He just wanted to explain her how much her body had been haunting him since he had seen her naked in that bath tube but he decided to show her his desire with actions instead.

“Take that off.” He said, pointing at her armature, his voice made of desire.

She gave him a last insecure look before starting to undress herself. Her fingers were sightly trembling, the crackling fire and their breaths were the only sounds in the room, now matching with the clink of her armature. He was observing every move from her, undressing her with the force of his eyes like her fingers were following his secret command until she remained in a linen shirt and breeches. He looked at her legs and closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the vision of her exposing skin. She misunderstood his reaction and stopped her movements. He took her hand and put it on the waistband of her breeches, “please, go on.” He said in a whisper. She took them down, made braver by the desire found in his voice until she was totally naked with the exception of the long shirt that ended in her middle thigh. A single piece of linen was the only thing covering her body but he still couldn’t see her most intimate parts. When she was about to take off her last piece of clothing, he intercepted her fingers, stopping her. He lowered the collar of the shirt, freeing her neck until he could see the valley between her breasts exposed. He ghosted his lips against the skin, starting from the neck and going down until the force of his gripping hand ripped the shirt slightly apart, revealing part of her breast. His lips followed the broken cloth until they found her right nipple. He kissed it softly and she instantly interlaced her left ankle around his leg to keep him close. He looked at her and found the same desire mirrored in her eyes. He kissed her lips briefly and then touched the scar above her upper lip.

“How did you get it?” He asked softly.

“My brother.” She said, smiling faintly. “He made me fall on a rock when we were little.”

He kissed it another time and moved toward her neck, on the left portion just above her breast.

“This one?” He asked her.

“The bear.” She said in a light moan.

“Before a handsome knight rescued you.” He said, tracing the contour of it with his tongue. He felt her knees surrender a little at the contact and put his hand on her hip to steady her.

“He wasn’t that handsome.” She said, teasing him and he replied nipping her skin there playfully.

Then he went down, passing to the valley between her breasts and when he found what was remained of her linen shirt on his path, he growled in impatience and went on his knees. His hand left her hip to tear further apart the shirt and when she saw him struggling with one hand to break the tissue, she helped him with her own hand, ripping it off from the opposite side. The sound of the rip was strangely erotic and she remained totally naked in front of him. He put his arms around her body, stretching them up to touch her shoulder blades, while his forehead pressed against her stomach.

He inhaled deeply, losing himself in her pure scent and planted an open mouthed kiss between her breasts.

“I’ve found another one, wench.” He said, licking a horizontal scar under her left breast.

“Harrenhal.” She said, sighing in excitement, “when they tried to rape me.”

He traced sweet kisses down her body, stopping at her navel, while his fingers on her back were mimicking the same downhill, now caressing her buttocks.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, looking up at her and he saw her eyes watering.

“I’m full of scars.” She said, lowering her gaze. “You’ve seen neither half of them.”

“I like to think that almost all your scars are connected with me, somehow.” He said. “Is this incredibly selfish?”

She shook her head in response and he felt her grabbing his golden hand on her buttock.

He intercepted her train of thoughts immediately. “If losing my hand has been a consequence of saving you, I would go through it a million of time, again. I’ve never regretted it, never for a second.” He said, looking up at her with a mix of reverence and excitement. She replied, freeing his golden hand from his right arm, her fingers busy behind her back until she took the fake hand and let it fall on the floor. She took his stump and made him caress her skin with it. He sighed in gratitude.

“These scars make you unique.” He said against her stomach, then he moved just above her left hipbone and bit down not too gently making her hiss in a pain made mostly of excitement.

“What are you doing?” She asked huskily.

“Making you mine.” He replied, sucking the skin he had just bitten and she couldn’t help but feel the wetness between her legs growing. When he stopped sucking, he relieved her skin, using his tongue while his left hand moved from her back, passing on the front. He caressed her stomach at first, then his thumb stopped a breath away form her clit.

“I thought about giving you pleasure in so many ways that I don’t know where to start.” He said, but his thumb finally touched it. Amazed by the reply he was receiving from her, he slid his digit following the length of her pussy, until he entered her.

She gasped, putting her hands on his shoulders to brace herself while he begun moving his thumb inside and out of her.

Having his face in front of her womb was a temptation impossible to bear.

“Do you trust me?” He asked her for the second time and could find a positive reply between her incoherent moans. He started to massage her clit with his upper lip and when her scent was filling his nostrils he begun lapping at her while his finger was still inside her.

“Jaime.” She said, breathing hardly and fighting the urge to bend her knees. He kept her in place, adding another finger inside her and when he felt she was close, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, penetrating her and taking her to the first real orgasm of her life. He stood up then, taking her in his arms.

“Are you ok?” He said, sheltering her head under his chin.

“Yes.” She breathed against him. He kissed her forehead and guided her to his bed, realizing in that moment he was still dressed. She sat on the bed and collected her legs against he body, feeling too exposed while he begun to undress himself, never leaving her eyes.

He had undressed himself in front of Cersei a lot of times, challenging her gaze to every removed cloth; with Brienne, it was different. He found out for the first time in his life what it feels like to be insecure, totally at her mercy. He felt her blue eyes penetrating every inch of exposed skin and he hesitated for a moment. She bit her lip, a hint of worrisome, and he kept undressing until he was totally naked. He noticed her gaze lingering on his body until she found his erection; then she dropped her gaze, afraid to have been caught in something disrespectful.

He smiled at her naivety. “You can look at me, you know?” He said, approaching her on the bed. “I’m yours.” He made her lay down on the surface and he covered her with his body.

He brushed his nose softly against hers to alleviate her nervousness and she smiled.

“I need you to know how much I would like to do things in the right way.” He said, looking in her eyes, “I would like to marry you first and then to make you mine, but unfortunately it’s not the right time.. we’re in war and I can’t risk to wait because I could die before having--”

“Don’t say it, please.” She said, interrupting him.

“You deserve so much better.” He said, caressing her cheek.

“I just want you.” She replied, turning her head to kiss his palm.

Suddenly, he realized that he wanted to know it. “Would you marry me, wench?” He asked, surprising even himself.

“Yes.” She replied.

“Now?” He asked hopefully.

“Always.” She said and he covered her lips with his own. His erection was pressed against her womb and he shifted to tease her wet entrance. Then, surprising her, he begun to say,

“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul.. now and forever.”

She chuckled in response and he was amazed by the sound. “What are you doing?”

He entered her slowly and she hissed in pain; he kissed her forehead in a sweet gesture and stayed still inside her. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..” He said, beginning to thrust delicately inside her.

“Say it with me.” He asked her against her lips.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” They said together, brushing their lips in the process. He saw a tear escaping from her eyes and he kissed her away.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.” He said, kissing her with all the passion he could collect while his movements became faster.

Then she was the one talking, surprising them both, “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” Saying this, she started to meet his thrust, raising her hips against his. He trapped her arms above her head, his movements now frantic.

“Tell me you love me.” He almost prayed her, his orgasm close.

“I love you with everything I have.” She said and they both surrendered to the force of their orgasms.

They slept in each other’s arms, Jaime told her he loved her every time she stirred or changed position, trying to keep her awake, not wanting to waste neither a moment with her. In the end, they agreed to have at least two kids together, Jaime wanted three more, but Brienne almost fainted in response. They didn’t find an agreement, though, when they decided how their kids would look like. She wanted them to look like their handsome father, he just wanted them to have her incredible eyes.

“Jaime, would you let me sleep?” She asked in the end.

“Have already told you that I love you?” She covered his mouth with her palm, exasperated and he chuckled against it.

_Now the wench is really mine._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me happy.


End file.
